Arrivals Gate at Heathrow Airport
by elanev91
Summary: The Love Actually/We Are Here crossover/continuation you probably don't need but I'm giving to you anyway. Thank you a million to the Tumblr anon who asked for a continuation of this little story.


**blitheringmcgonagall asked for Prime Minister Potter to come back in the lead up to the UK election. I already had this ready to go, so...**

**Also, if you're in the UK: VOTE TOMORROW, 12 DECEMBER (and like, vote Labour or vote tactically to shut down the Tories) OKAY THAT'S IT ENJOY THE FANFIC**

* * *

_December 2026_

James Potter was bone tired. Bone fucking tired.

He was jet lagged and irritable and rotting away in some conference room with a bunch of world leaders who ranged from actually wonderful to work with to dreadfully bloody annoying, and this was what he got, according to Sirius, for bothering to stand for Prime Minister again when he could so easily have just let someone else take the reins for once and starting lounging about for the duration of his career, but, well —

James Potter was an idiot. An idealistic, workaholic moron. In addition to being jet lagged and irritable.

He liked to think that this was all a factor of having been with his wife for as long as he had been now — his brilliant, overachieving wife — but, really, he'd always been a little too into working himself into the ground to really get away with using Lily as an excuse.

Especially because she was currently the spitting image of "how to do just enough work that you don't go mad but not so much work that you still go mad but in a significantly less fun way".

Because while James was sitting in a conference room in New York — thankfully not a conference room in Washington DC, because, no matter what anyone said, that city was just absolutely awful, especially when you were trying to get anywhere by car and he knew that people kept telling him that was "done intentionally" so that "if people invaded, it would be hard to get anywhere" but honestly, it was just too fucking annoying to abide by — staring out the window at the steel grey sky, watching tiny snowflakes float past, and wishing that he were back in Britain where his body understood what time it was, his wife was at home, watching (if her text messages at the start of the hour were to be believed) the winter series of _Love Island _and eating some of the ginger biscuits that they'd made with Harry earlier in the week before he'd left for the States.

He was desperately jealous of her at the moment, but, as Lily had been telling him for the past year — green was a terrible colour on him.

His mobile was sat in front of him, face up on a stack of folders and haphazardly arranged papers, and, while he was supposed to be paying attention to the American president — who, finally, was someone completely sensible and genuinely wonderful and not the absolute _nutter _he'd had to work with his first few years in office — he still looked down immediately when his mobile screen lit up, pinging with four notifications in rapid succession.

_WhatsApp_ _16:53_

_Lily Potter_

_Message_

_WhatsApp_ _16:53_

_Lily Potter_

_Message_

_WhatsApp_ _16:53_

_Lily Potter_

_Message_

_WhatsApp_ _16:53_

_Lily Potter_

_Message_

And even though he was supposed to be listening to the President — now she was talking about the climate crisis and bless her, it never stopped being novel that he was sitting here in a room with an American leader who was willingly and sanely talking about climate change — he still snatched his mobile up off the table top and immediately unlocked it.

_Lily Potter: Look I found these emojis that look just like me (16:53)_

Sure enough, underneath her message, there was a series of red haired cartoon people.

_The one with the exploding head looks like me during Board meetings._

James nearly laughed, but he bit his lip in a last ditch effort to keep hold of himself. It just wouldn't due to start laughing in the middle of this meeting, no matter how much his wife (or his jet lag, come to that) desperately wanted him to.

He typed back a quick message — _This one is me _— and sent his sleeping memoji before her locked his mobile and flipped it over on the table top.

No sense letting himself be any more tempted than he already was to carry on ignoring the conversation that he'd flown all the way across an ocean to participate in.

He'd just picked up his pen to write down something the President had said — because, really, he was listening and he had some semblance of self control — when his mobile gave another short buzz on the table and he moved automatically to pick it up.

_Lily Potter: Please. You know you're the exploding head too (16:55)_

_Lily Potter: Though maybe less and less these days now that you don't have to deal with that Trump anymore (16:55)_

James smiled down at his screen this time before he could stop himself, just the tiniest little smile, as he heard the French president clear her throat beside him.

'I'm really happy to hear about your progress with some of our allies, Madame President,' the French president said, and James locked his phone (after sending Lily back a "_Oh without a doubt"_) and flipped it back over onto the table, 'but if you wouldn't mind, I'd like to hear the British Prime Minister,' she nodded towards James, 'talk a little bit about the progress he's been making from his side of this because, as I understand it, you've been facing some competition in your home country, yes?'

And they were off.

* * *

James loved almost everything about his job, except the travelling. He hated, _hated, _travelling for work. Especially these days.

In the first few years he'd been with Lily, it was annoying, having to travel, but it wasn't something they couldn't deal with. She was travelling, too, almost as often as he was — or at least it sometimes felt like she was when she was getting home late from the Ministry during particularly harried times — and even in the first few years after Harry had been born, he hadn't liked it, but he'd made due.

He and Lily traded off. They called and they sent Circe back and forth (unless they were on separate continents because the one trip across the Atlantic had nearly killed the poor owl and she was so angry she wouldn't look at either of them for a fortnight, and they knew it was ridiculous sending paper letters when they had mobile phones, but they both really liked the charm of a handwritten letter) and, even when it was hard, they made it work.

They were still making it work because, really, Lily was only unemployed in lack of official title alone — she was chairing Arthur's newly-created Muggle Rights Commission and serving on the St Mungo's Leadership Board and, because she couldn't fake a service commitment if her life depended on it, she was on the board of the Aegis Trust and the board of Refugee Action to maintain the appearance that she was, as far as the British public was concerned, a normal rich person who did normal rich person things and not the newly-retired Minister for Magic with a penchant for overworking herself and a passion for justice. But Lily was home more and more often these days, and, say what she would about green being an ugly colour on him, he couldn't help but long, a little bit, to be home with his family when he was off galavanting around the world like this.

_You're not galavanting, James, _Lily said when he told her this his second night in New York. _You're literally brokering a G7 climate agreement and helping right the wrongs of the last, what? 200 years?_

He knew she was right — it was important that he be here because they were really trying to make important strides where the climate was concerned because _god _they'd been fucking it up for too long and things were worse, already, than they'd excpected they would be, and, underneath it all, he wanted to be there, but also…. well, underneath all _that, _he really just wanted to be home on the sofa with Lily and Harry counting how many times Lily had whip out her wand to repair things while they let Harry try his hand at decorating the tree.

On his fourth afternoon in New York, James was sitting at a table with President Warren, their agreement draft scattered across nearly every available inch of the tabletop. They'd been working since seven that morning revising the draft together — President Warren didn't, James had learned in her first term four years ago, fuck around and, like Lily, she preferred to do a lot of the gritty, hands-on work herself because she thought it "lent itself to the development of mastery" — before they sent it back around to their colleagues for their final sign off. Most of the pages on the table had red marking ink on them and nearly half of them had some kind of coffee or tea stain on them, but, mess aside, James thought that they were at a fairly promising place.

'I agree,' Warren said, when James told her as much. 'Want to take fifteen and give our brains a bit of a break?'

James was already picking up his mobile off the corner of the table and flipping it over. 'Yes, please.'

'Great.' Warren grabbed her mobile and stood, pausing only to pull her blazer back on before she strode out of the conference room, her mobile already pressed to her ear.

James groaned audibly as he leant back in his chair and unlocked his phone. He had a few unopened messages — two from Sirius, one in the "Potter Couples" WhatsApp group (also from Sirius), and an image message from Lily. He opened up his chat with Lily and, instantly, smiled down at his screen.

It was a picture of her and Harry (and their cat, reluctantly) sitting on the hearth under the stockings. They were beaming, both of them, and it looked like they both had a bit of red paint smeared across their cheeks (and that the cat, poor Crookshanks, had a bit of paint on his tail).

_We have the best surprise for when you come home!_ her message said.

James stared down at them for a second, his heart almost unbearably full. He missed them so much it was like a hole had been shot straight through his lungs.

_James Potter: I can't wait to find out what this surprise is (14:27)_

_James Potter: I miss you both so much (14:27)_

_Lily Potter: We miss you, too (14:29)_

_Lily Potter: Harry told me today to tell you that he's going to use his broom to come get you (14:29)_

_Lily Potter: Apparently, you're to wait for him on the roof of "the big building" (14:29)_

James knew that she was just telling him because it was hilarious, but damn if it also didn't make him feel a little bit guilty.

_James Potter: Ah, yes. The big building. Tell him I'll be there in five (14:30)_

_Lily Potter: Hahaha I will (14:30)_

_James Potter: What are you up to besides plotting my kidnapping with our son (14:31)_

_Lily Potter: Thinking about love (14:33)_

_Lily Potter: Did you know that it's all around? (14:33)_

_James Potter: Oh my god (14:34)_

_Lily Potter: And it's not particularly dignified or newsworthy (14:34)_

_Lily Potter: But it really is all around (14:34)_

_James Potter: Are you watching LOve Actually again? (14:35)_

A few Christmases ago, Sirius had taken it upon himself to educate the "woefully ignorant magical masses" (by which he meant Remus and Lily and Remus and Lily alone) about the "glory that is the classic Christmas film" (by which he meant _Love Actually _exclusively_) _and, ever since, it had become tradition in the Potter household to watch that film over and over until they could quote it at each other at extended length.

Remus was a little better at resisting the tradition than James had been — mostly because James had more than a little soft spot for it himself — but, over the last year or two, Sirius had definitely worn him down a little bit.

Sirius had said, when James mentioned it last year, that it was all down to how very _giving _he felt after a good _Love Actually _binge, but James had, mostly, shut down that line of conversation before it really got going and spared himself the mental images that would, no doubt, have lasted a lifetime.

_Lily Potter: ….. No comment (14:35)_

_James Potter: mhmm (14:35)_

_Lily Potter: Look, I have to do something with myself now that I've been banned from working (14:36)_

_James Potter: I'm surprised you're abiding by Arthur's suggestion at all, to be honest (14:36)_

_Lily Potter: It didn't seem right to ignore the Minister (14:37)_

_James Potter: Who are you and what have you done with my wife? (14:37)_

_Lily Potter: …. Well, alright, if I'm working on a few things without him knowing, it's not like it's going to hurt anything (14:37)_

_Lily Potter: I'm not bringing it back to the Board until after the winter holiday so TECHNICALLY I'm following the rules (14:38)_

_James Potter: You're all about "technically" following the rules (14:38)_

_Lily Potter: PSH PLEASE. SO ARE YOU (14:38)_

_Lily Potter: Don't forget, I know all about you, Mr Potter (14:39)_

_James Potter: Oh, believe me, I know you know ALL about me, Mrs Potter (14:39)_

_Lily Potter: Stop flirting with me (14:40)_

_James Potter: You blushing? (14:40)_

_Lily Potter: YES (14:40)_

_Lily Potter: Now shut up, please, it's my favourite part (14:41)_

_James Potter: Emma Thompson is an goddess (14:41)_

James was just heading back into his meeting with Warren, freshly made cup of tea in hand, when his mobile buzzed again.

_Lily Potter: She really, really is (14:44)_

_Lily Potter: Thank god the queen like. Knighted her or whatever she did (14:44)_

_Lily Potter: oH MY GOD I'VE JUST HAD THE BEST IDEA (14:44)_

_Lily Potter: DO YOU THINK WE COULD INVITE HER FOR DINNER? YOU'RE THE BLOODY PRIME MINISTER! (14:45)_

If he'd said it once, he'd said it a million times — his wife was an absolute genius.

* * *

By the time he finally landed in Heathrow a day and a half later, James was absolutely wrecked. His hair was a disaster from having had his hands in it — though he was sure that Lily would have said it didn't look any different than it usually did — and he was pretty sure that the dark circles under his eyes were so dark that he looked more like a corpse than the living, breathing Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, but, physical nightmare aside, he and President Warren had gotten all the G7 leaders to sign off on their aggressive climate crisis plan, they, the G7, had plans to meet in a few months to talk about financial inequality (and he and President Warren were going to meet a few weeks before that to strategise), and more than anything else, he was so glad, finally, to be home.

He was now no more than a short car ride away from his family.

Or, alright, an annoyingly long car ride for such a short distance away, but he was in the same time zone. The same city.

He hitched his bag over his shoulder — just the one with his laptop in because he'd learnt (or, more accurately, his staff never let him forget) that he didn't need to (read, shouldn't) carry his own suitcase off the plane. His staff mostly humoured him when it came to carrying his messenger bag, but even then, they were always stripping it off him before they got to the bit just outside the terminal where all the paps were waiting to get a picture of him looking like he'd been hit by a bus.

He pulled his mobile out of his inside jacket pocket as he started walking up the air bridge and switched his mobile service back on. He clicked into WhatsApp as soon as his service flickered to life at the top of his screen and sent Lily a quick text.

_James Potter: Just landed. I can't wait to get home and see you xx (20:11)_

He stared down at the screen as he walked and, sure enough, as he was stepping out into the gate, Lily began typing her reply.

_Lily Potter: I can't wait to see you, too. I missed you so much…. ?(20:11)_

James laughed to himself and one of his staff seemed to sense his moment of weakness. They walked up beside him so James could just see them in his periphery and, when he turned, they smiled and said, 'Can I take your bag, Prime Minister?'

James knew it was a losing battle — he'd have to give it up in a minute anyway — so he just nodded and slid his bag off his shoulder. 'Thanks, Casey.'

Casey nodded. 'Of course, sir.'

James smiled at them. 'One day, I'll carry your bag out of here, Casey.'

Casey laughed. 'Don't count on it, sir.'

James was still chuckling — he really hired the best people — when he turned back to his mobile.

_James Potter: Are you flirting with me, Mrs Potter? (20:12)_

_Lily Potter: You bet (20:12)_

_James Potter: Well, now I'm even more excited to see you (20:13)_

_Lily Potter: Good (20:13)_

The airport was more crowded than he'd anticipated at this hour but, luckily for him, being Prime Minister meant that he didn't have to queue for security or immigration or any of that nonsense. Maybe that was elitist of him, but he really just —

Ugh, he just wanted to get home and cuddle his wife (and, alright, also tear all her clothes off).

He smiled to himself again as he thought it — _his wife_. He was such a nerd — he knew it, Sirius told him at every opportunity (and so did Lily, come to that) — but he just….

She'd married him. He got to spend the rest of his life with her. And it was just so incredible to him, that he'd managed to be that lucky.

And he didn't care if it made him a nerd to say that.

He clicked over into his email as he continued walking through the airport, giving it one last flip through before he stepped out in front of all the cameras. He would have heard if something catastrophic had happened — Margot would have grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back onto the plane and not let him free until he'd memorised a speech about whatever it was that had gone wrong while he'd been away — but he still wanted to be prepared for anything that might be shouted at him in the pap line. It all looked normal — an email from President Warren's chief of staff with the electronic version of their final agreement, an email, oh, two emails, that Margot had forwarded, an email from his Chancellor with… it looked like the quarter close numbers attached — and he was just sliding his mobile back into his jacket pocket as he rounded the corner into the public part of the terminal and was met, immediately, with a wall of flashing light.

And, then, over the sound of the flashing cameras and the paparazzi shouting questions at him — 'Daddy!'

James' heart immediately jumped into his throat.

He scanned the crowd outside the line of photographers in front of him, but he was looking too high because, all of a sudden, a small weight hit him — _oof_ — in the stomach and nearly knocked the wind out of him. James looked down, his smile a thousand miles wide, and grabbed Harry round the middle and lifted him up into his arms, planting an enormous kiss on his cheek.

'Hiya, there, mate, I missed you!'

Harry immediately buried his face in James' neck and James wrapped his arm around him, hugging him hard but still trying to be careful not to crush him. God, he missed this kid so much when he was gone, it was almost unbearable.

'Mummy and I have a present for you, Daddy,' Harry said, rocketing upright and nearly knocking James' glasses clean off his face in the process. James laughed and, unsurprisingly, a few of the paparazzi laughed right along with him. He would bet good money that a few of those blokes, especially the one from _The Daily Mail, _the prick_, _would have loved to get a picture of James' toddler spectacularly breaking his nose in the middle of the airport.

'Do you?' James leant back a little so he could look Harry in the eyes. 'Where is Mummy?'

'Back there.' Harry pointed vaguely overtop the photographers and James looked, half expecting not to be able to see her, but — his breath fell out of him — there she was.

She was beaming, positively beaming at him and he felt like his heart was going to seize up at the sight. Because it wasn't enough that she was gorgeous — though of course she was, with her dark red hair flowing down around her shoulders and that dark blue jumper she was wearing that she _knew _drove him absolutely out of his mind because it just fit her so damn well — it was that she was looking at him like she couldn't believe that he was finally home. Like she'd missed him as much as he had missed her.

And of course she had, she'd told him as much while he'd been gone, but it never stopped filling him up til he was fit to burst whenever he saw her again.

And then, he smiled at her as he made his way through the crowd towards her, amusement tugging at the edges of his expression because she was holding a sign that had a picture of a man that looked very much like James in a full Father Christmas outfit next to the sloppily painted words, _WELCOME HOME, DADDY!_

James looked significantly down at the sign as he came to a stop in front of her. 'Daddy, huh?'

He kept his voice low in an effort to keep from being overheard. Luckily, Harry was distracted with waving to the paparazzi who were, thankfully, respecting James' request not to take photographs of him.

'Oh, shut up,' Lily said, grinning.

James laughed at her and slung his free arm around her shoulders, bringing her close. 'I missed you.'

'I missed you, too.'

Lily was still smiling when James pressed his lips, too briefly for his liking, to hers. He took her hand as he pulled away, Harry still balanced on his opposite hip and they started towards the exit.

'Now which one of you was responsible for this amazing banner?' James asked. Harry's little hand immediately rocketed into the air.

'I painted it! Mummy helped,' he added, looking around James so that he could see Lily. 'She drew the lines and then she let me colour it in!'

'You did a great job. I love it,' James said. He squeezed Lily's hand. 'You guys did a brilliant job.'

'Thank you.' Harry puffed his little chest up importantly and James and Lily both laughed.

'Let's get home, huh?' James smiled down at Lily and squeezed her hand again. 'I'm tired.' They started walking through the crowd, the paparrazi backing up in front of them, towards the door.

'Oh my god, Daddy,' Harry said, and he grasped James' shoulders in his little hands. 'Can I tell you a secret?'

James shot Lily a look, his eyebrow cocked in amusement before he turned to look at Harry. 'Sure, mate.'

'Mummy said not to tell you,' Harry said, 'because it's a surprise —'

'Ack,' Lily jumped beside them, 'don't tell him!'

Harry giggled at Lily's outburst but ignored her all the same. He leant over and whispered, loudly enough that Lily could definitely hear him, into James ear, 'We also made you biscuits, Daddy. Your favourites.'

James gasped theatrically and whispered back. 'Did you cut them into shapes or just regular circles?'

Harry's eyes went wide with meaning. '_Shapes_.'

'Oh my god.' James turned to look at Lily. 'We've got to get home immediately,' he said, and he turned, winking extra dramatically at Harry, 'I've just heard that I have to have an urgent call with the Italian Foreign Minister.'

'Uh huh,' Lily said, rolling her eyes. 'Sure.'

James turned to Harry and let go of Lily's hand just long enough for Harry to give him a high five.

'We got her, mate.'

Harry pumped his free fist into the air and shouted, 'BISCUITS!' and James and Lily both laughed as James took her hand again, their fingers winding together, as they stepped out of the airport and into the cold blast of December air.


End file.
